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I feel very sad reading this. I first found Felix in "How to get rich". It was even better than I expected it would be. Few books have felt so honest. He wrote that he had nothing to gain from the book, as he was already rich. I think this was true.

I'm taking a different route to entrepreneurship and riches than he did (lower goal, far less struggle) but much of what he wrote rang true for my situation, too.

Throughout "how to get rich" he mentioned his poetry, which is what he devoted his life too after he gave up booze, drugs and mistresses. I've never got into poetry, but wanted to. So I picked up a book.

It was good. I picked up another book, and enjoyed that too. And what's more, now I get more enjoyment out of other poems. I'm still learning, but he's changed how I appreciate a major branch of literature.

And now he's dead. I can never thank him for any of that. I had intended to write him. Never put off till tomorrow what you can do today. That was a lesson hard learned for him, pervasive in his book and poetry. It's trite, but it's so very true. We all have so little time.

This poem fells apropos. I suspect that, though he died fairly young, he is glad to have avoided this fate:



How to get rich: http://www.amazon.com/How-Get-Rich-Greatest-Entrepreneurs/dp...

The first of his poetry books I read:


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